


the beautiful game

by poise



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Bikes, Jealousy, M/M, Secret Identity, Street Racing, actual plot starts in the second chapter, bikers babyyy, chapter 2 is probably more longer but will come sooner!, implied mental health issues, more tags to be added soon, racing teams, sexual tension !!!!!!!!! SEXUAL TENSION !!!, sexy rivalry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:33:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23164801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poise/pseuds/poise
Summary: There’s a new racer in the city.And Jaemin doesn't like it, not one bit.
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Na Jaemin
Comments: 12
Kudos: 148





	the beautiful game

**Author's Note:**

> this is my actual baby. i spent a v v long time fixing her up so plz read T_T this also used to be another fic but i changed the plot and rewrote it !!!!

To say that Jaemin was livid would be an understatement. Oh _no_ , he was _beyond_ livid. The sheen of sweat glistening under his team jacket makes it disgustingly stick to his skin and he squirms with the annoying itch that starts to form in his chest. It was the middle of summer for _fucks_ sake, it was dry in the morning and humid during the night—he should’ve gone over his choice for wearing leather. 

He pulls his helmet off, boring holes onto the back of the biker who was just a mere foot away from him. The white, glow-in-the-dark Yamaha bike blinding his eyes and he squints. It’s a large contrast between the city lights and Jaemin’s red glittery Ducati. 

But Huang Renjun has always liked standing out. 

The sound of the crowd roaring multiple names, each one cheering for the bikers they’ve bet on. Jaemin hears the crowd woo as the biker in front of him reaches to the side of his helmet and in a quick swift, it dematerializes into thin air. A waft of dark brown hair comes to view as Renjun turns around to wave at the crowd. Jaemin doesn’t miss the way his eyes flicker towards him like a sly snake eyeing its prey. The itch in his chest burns brighter— _arrogant bastard_.

“Comin’ in first place for two consecutive weeks in a row is none other than Neo City’s new golden star, _Huang Renjun!_ ” The speaker booms through the streets where the bikers are sprawled across. The crowd cheers.

“In second place, is The Coven’s pride and joy, The Viper himself—Na Jaemin!” 

The words ‘second place’ makes his stomach lurch. 

But he bites his tongue anyways. Mark has always said he had a little bit of a temper, fitting his nickname of The Viper (from Dejun), but Jaemin retaliates by calling it _'being expressive'._ It does admittedly come in handy sometimes though. Especially in street racing. Jaemin's hard-headedness and strive for victory has made him—and their group—one of Neo's most elite racers. Even when it was still illegal. Years and years of championships and winning the ultimate annual race, _The Quarters._

4 seasons a year and 4 whole consecutive weeks in each season is filled with nothing short but races, blisters and sleepless nights spent on training just to win the grand Cup, the most prestigious racing award, alongside a cash prize of $1,000,000. Jaemin lives and breathes for it. Mostly for the hustle, but the money isn’t too bad either. He’s dedicated his life and lives off nothing more than the pleasurable high victory brings, and the sound of the crowd chanting his name. He was _born_ for this. 

Or so he thought. Enter Huang Renjun.

Jaemin recalls the first time he met him. It was at last year’s Neo Cup. Just a few months prior. The last race of the last season. He remembers how he sped past the finishing line, surpassing Diamond’s lead racer, Choi Seung Cheol by mere seconds as the crowd went wild over it. Chants filled the streets. He remembered heading over to the Diamond’s pit stop to congratulate them on coming in second place. He spotted one of their main racers, Jun, deep in a conversation before his eyes fleeted toward him.

“Oh, Jaemin! Hey, congrats on coming in first.” Now both Jun and the stranger’s attention was directed toward him. And Jaemin notes, _he's not from here_. The stranger’s eyes held a childlike innocence, cheeks puffed out and clothes dull and bland—not at all like everyone else in the city. Jaemin would've called him cute even.

“This is Huang Renjun, he’s new in the city and was looking around.”

Jaemin raises an eyebrow at him. “You race?” he asks and Renjun chuckles in return, a glint of something he can't quite figure out flashes in his eyes and disappears a second later.

“Maybe.”

Jaemin later learns that he and Renjun have two, _very_ different definitions of ‘maybe’.

He meets him again for the second time during this year’s _Spring Quarter_ —the first race in the first season of the year. 

And while Jaemin isn't one to pride himself, (or so he thinks), he does, however, find pride in knowing he's able to break each racer down by just a glance. It’s something he’s honed over time with nothing except practice and pure instinct. A glance at their posture, a flick of their wrist, tells him the kind of racer they are. It gets easier every time. To him, they were an open book.

His team leader, Mark, is a pacer. Nicknamed The King, he has his back slanted, but head held high. A _true_ leader. He's tactful and efficient, races slow but speeds past racers at the end. Another member, Yukhei, races somewhat similarly. His broad shoulders are brought to an advantage, leaning forward as he glides between racers. Always one step ahead.

Jisung is... a little more reckless than others which lands him the nickname Loki. Being the youngest in the team, he's managed to incorporate his boisterous personality into his racing. Deemed a crowd favourite with his turns, and jumps and menacing antics on the field. But he's always loved putting on a show, loved keeping everyone right on the edge of their seat when he races and absolutely bathes in the chants of his name. He has you right where he wants you, paying close attention to his every detail. At times, even Jaemin finds himself tongue-tied at his showmanship. 

And in that week, he landed his chance to once again, wow the crowd and render them speechless as he prepared at the starting line, crouched onto the side of his bike for a last-minute check-up. Jaemin remembered standing opposite of him on the stands, struggling to pay interest to a conversation Mark seemed to have started about leaving milk or yoghurt out the fridge (frankly, Jaemin wasn’t sure himself, he tuned out 3 seconds in). Instead, his eyes flew over the crowd of participants in this year's Cup. There were the Diamonds, soloist Fullsun (Donghyuck to Jaemin), the Orbits and so many more, lined up with nothing but vigour pulsing through their veins—raising the stakes even higher than they were before. 

Although one stood out among the rest. A racer he had never seen before. Said racer had their helmet on—a tinted, black material hovering around their head. Jaemin could squint just enough to see the outline of a sharp nose, trailing down to meet a pretty cupid's bow. Something about them threw him off—Jaemin couldn’t exactly _read_ the racer. Even the way they stood was odd—a little peculiar for an assumed first-timer. Back straight and knuckles white with how hard they were gripping onto their bike handle, almost as if they _knew_ he was watching. They carried themselves with a certain aura, one that speaks like a trained racer and yet acts like an amateur. Jaemin couldn’t figure them out. But he let his eyes fleet over to the obnoxiously bright bike beside them, smooth and polished to the touch. 

The bike was white in colour, glowing in fact. There were no prints on it, except for a small, black, half-moon skillfully carved at the side. It was a beauty and Jaemin found himself at the edge of his seat even more. He didn't expect the racer to glance back at him as they propped themselves on the bike, lips upturned.

The blaring sound of the speakers interrupted his reverie as it announced for the racers to take their rightful places. Jaemin brought his attention back to Jisung, offering him a thumbs up for good measure. The horn blared a minute later. 

The first half of the race went by smoothly with Jisung leading ahead and the Orbit’s Olivia tailing close behind him. The unknown racer seemed to be one of the last ones and something about it was unsettling—it left a sour taste dancing on the tip of Jaemin's tongue.

And rightfully so, as the racer started to speed past everyone with the finish line in clear view. By the time they were done, they were neck and neck against the Orbit’s racer, fortunately with Jisung still leading ahead. With the tension so high and the finish line in arms reach, the racer had managed to speed past Olivia, coming in second place after Jisung.

The crowd went absolutely wild and Jaemin didn’t hide the fact that he was teetering on the edge of his seat. The air was thick with tension as the new racer reached to the side of their helmet. 

Jaemin observed from the corner of his eyes the way the crowd went completely silent as it slowly dematerialized and revealed a pretty boy with blonde hair, dimples visibly starting to show as everyone cheered louder for him. Jaemin took a moment to realize— _oh_ , he knew him. Except the fuller cheeks were a little more hollow and eyes a little more sharp, missing the old familiar doe. 

The speakers went off to announce the 1st, 2nd and 3rd place winners of the race, the name Huang Renjun embedded into everyone’s mind.

If someone had told Jaemin a few months prior that the racer he’d already label as an amateur in his mind would be the bane of his existence, he’d laugh in their face. But soon after that first race, said amateur had managed to beat almost every record Jaemin had set his entire career in the span of 4 months into the racing industry.

And now, 7 months into the year and half of the Summer Quarter completed, they’re neck and neck against each other—both with a clear view of winning the Cup. 

The announcer's voice fades against the cheers of the crowd and Jaemin gets off his bike, knowing the procedure by heart as he starts walking off the track. The cold metal of the necklace tucked under his shirt burns against his hot skin. He meets Renjun at the platform and is greeted by a mocking smile, ready and worn just for him. It's the announcer that speaks first to repeat their places. 

Jaemin unwillingly sticks his hand out towards Renjun who clasps his hand around it and shakes without hesitance, which only makes the scowl on his face grow deeper. The crowd doesn't notice when Renjun takes a step closer, voice light as a feather and smile never once faltering.

"Better luck next time right?" He says, all moxie.

It makes the ends of lips twitch.

  
  
  
  
  
  


He gets back to his bike after what seemed like an endless cycle of congratulatory handshakes and pats on the back. Renjun is walking right before him, back to his obnoxiously white bike. Though Jaemin has never hated a bike more in his life, the print carved into it never ceases to pull his attention. It wasn't that it was exceptionally magnificent in any way. It was simple, a black half-moon. But it was familiar in a way Jaemin couldn't pinpoint. 

“Oi, did you even hear what I said?” He feels a hand knocking the back of his head and he staggers on his bike.

He turns to be greeted with an unflattering crease starting to form on their technician’s— _Dejun’s_ —forehead.

“No, _er_ \- sorry. What were you saying?”

"Mark is paying for dinner tonight. We’re all going to that new restaurant in the next district." Dejun gives him a pat on the back and starts walking back to his own bike, a pale yellow in colour. 

"Meet you there in 10, yeah?" He doesn't wait for an answer and Jaemin is left with a view of his back turned against him.

He stretches forward, arching his back as far as he could with the leather jacket sticking onto his sweaty skin. The sleeveless t-shirt he has underneath is barely covering any skin at all. And with the knots straining his back, it makes it unbearable. He doesn't want to go anywhere, but home right now. Especially not wanting to face Mark's pep talks. It's always about how he can do better and to try harder next time. He gets it, being a team leader means you have to encourage your team no matter what. It’s basically in the job description, but Jaemin is starting to get tired of the same narrative. 

  
  
  
  
  


Red, Blue, Yellow. It's a pattern that tattoos itself onto his brain as he watches them flash against the skyscrapers. 

"Had a feeling you'd be here." He almost drops the bottle in his hand at the sudden voice. Mark notices this and lets out a low chuckle. Jaemin had been too immersed in the colours bouncing off the city’s buildings to even notice the roof door creak open. The city never sleeps and the neon lights decorating the inner parts of the city get brighter each day.

He tucks the necklace hanging loosely off the edge of his neck back into his shirt as Mark makes himself comfortable on the ledge beside him.

The fact that the city never sleeps corresponds with the pollution hanging in the air, thick enough to make Jaemin’s throat scratchy. On top of that, the cars honking in the distance never gets easier to adjust to, but the bottle of bourbon in his hand provides him with some sort of comfort. Mark doesn’t say anything as he lets his legs hang over the edge. Jaemin takes the initiative of speaking up first.

"How'd you know I'd be up here?" The alcohol stings a little on his tongue as it mixes with the air. 

"Well—a bottle was missing from my collection so that kind of gave it away," Mark eyes the bourbon in his hand. "And the rooftop was obvious." He folds his arms to his chest, staring ahead as Jaemin is left to burn holes into his hands. 

"Sorry," he says a second later. "I tried to find the cheapest bottle." 

Mark doesn't answer for a moment, but Jaemin could practically taste the question hanging off the tip of his tongue. _'Are you okay?'_

He waits for it, but instead, Mark turns to him with a faint smile hanging off the ends of his lips. "I'm not mad if that's what you were wondering."

 _What a Mark thing to say,_ Jaemin thinks. He tilts the bottle towards Mark invitingly who reaches out without hesitance. Jaemin thinks it’s funny how often he finds himself in this situation. At this point, it’s almost a routine. 

“You seemed out of it at dinner earlier. A little dazed before the race too. Anything you wanna talk about?” Mark tries to seem nonchalant as he asks but Jaemin sees through his facade. 

The question was inevitable and he saw it coming to the second Mark sat on that ledge. He just wishes he doesn’t have to deal with it now. 

“No. Everythings _fine_.” Jaemin lies through his teeth.

“Hm, are you sleeping okay lately?” 

“Yeah.”

“Still on your medication?” Jaemin stiffens at the mention of his sleeping pills. 

“Yep.” 

“And you’ve been going to your sessions? Did the-”

 _“Mark.”_ Mark stops at the mention of his name. “I’m okay. Just tired that's all.” 

He knows Mark wants to press further, calling it his ‘leadership instincts’—but if Jaemin had wanted a lecture he would’ve asked for it. Mark nods in response albeit hesitantly.

Jaemin does not take these moments for granted. He finds himself at ease when they sit idly for a few minutes, switching to lighter topics and drinking. It helps him forget for a little while about the gnawing in his chest that doesn't stop.

“I think I’m going to head to bed. You should finish that.” Jaemin nods at the half-empty bottle of bourbon between them, sitting on the ledge. He hops off and mumbles a half-hearted farewell, doesn’t wait for Mark to bid him goodnight.

“Jaemin?” Jaemin whips his head back, halfway through the door to send Mark a questioning gaze.

“You know you can come to me about anything right?” It’s rare to see Mark so serious all of the sudden but it somehow makes Jaemin admire him more than he already has. 

“Yeah.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


The elevator door slides open with a ding and Jaemin finds himself at their garage instead of the club’s penthouse. He had vaguely remembered pressing on which button on the way down, but the alcohol is starting to haze his mind. He lets the hollow feeling in his chest guide him to his bike. 

He runs a finger across it—bright red still standing out amongst the sea of bikes they have stored in their garage and even more in the warehouse up North. The same bike he rode when he had won his first Cup and—call it superstition—Jaemin would swear that over his dead body, would he race with a different bike. 

With a slide of his helmet and the rev of his bike, he’s out the garage door the second it folds open. There wasn’t much of a plan (or any at all) to this spontaneous rendezvous, _well,_ keyword: _spontaneous._

He shakes his head in an attempt to focus on the road. He’s been on these midnight rendezvous more often than he could count—he just needed to clear his mind (or cloud it with more alcohol, whichever is more convenient).

He gets his answer loud and clear when he passes through a crowded intersection, taking a shortcut through the more inner parts of the city and travelling further down each district when something catches his eye. The white bike in all its glory, parked outside the Sapphire district’s main club. Originally Jaemin had entertained the idea of visiting Sapphire's most popular burger joint, maybe even flirting with a few employees and ending up in a warm bed tonight. But the bike, more specifically the person it belonged to, just seemed too tempting for Jaemin to resist. When else was he going to catch Huang Renjun off guard?

He parks his bike in the more secluded alleyways, taking it upon himself to walk all the way up to the entrance. The front of the club was packed with a line stretching all the way up to the end of the street and Jaemin breezed through it easily, head held high as whispers of his name started floating around. See, when the sun retires for the day and the moon makes its appearance is when the city truly comes alive, especially at this time of the night when people would flock every club in every district of the city after the race. 

It doesn’t take long for Jaemin to get to the front of the line with a smile charming enough to make anyone melt in their spot.

“Name?” The bouncer asks—a man in his late 30’s, biceps looking like they would rip out of his shirt anytime with a height that easily towers over Jaemin.

“Na Jaemin, but my name isn’t on there, I’m just here for a quick visit.” he peers past the bouncer. “I know the owner so just tell her it was Jaemin.” He says with one leg already in front of the other as he walks into the club. He feels a harsh tug pull him back the second he passes through the velvet rope. The grip stays on his shoulder.

“Look kid, not everyone can just walk in and you wouldn’t believe how many times I’ve heard that _damn_ excuse so if your name isn’t on this list, you’re not getting in.” The bouncer’s grip makes his jacket wrinkle and Jaemin clenches his jaw. 

“Man, I _just_ washed it…” he groans under his breath before looking up to stare back at the man before him. 

“Get your hand off my jacket.” The bouncer only tightens his grip, adding more tension onto the situation until Jaemin tugs it off himself. He reaches a hand deep into the pocket of his pants to pull out a virtual card—lighting up to show his racer ID.

“Does ‘Viper’ ring any bells? _”_ He raises an eyebrow and turns to give a view of the team jacket from behind, The Coven’s official logo and his initials printed across the back. There’s an outline of a viper head sewn below.

A flash of something closer to worry and regret paints across the bouncer’s face, quickly stumbling over his words, but is determined to stay stone-faced. “My apologies sir. It was my fault. I’ll personally pay for your bill tonight, I _insist._ It’s the least I can do.” The man stutters with a sheen of sweat forming on his forehead.

“Well, it would be rude of me to turn down such a generous offer.” Jaemin feels the sick sense of satisfaction boiling in his stomach. He smiles, dripping with sarcasm as he walks past the entrance. 

The temperature rises almost instantly and Jaemin feels the sweat starting to form on his lower back. There were dozens, upon dozens of people pushed up against each other on the dance floor, skin glistened with sweat and glitter moulding together. The sight makes a sour taste melt on the tip of his tongue. Thankfully, the ceilings were high enough for him to catch his breath. Tight places were never Jaemin’s favourite.

The upper floor has a balcony that stretches through the whole space, overlooking the dance floor below. Jaemin runs his eyes along its railing, seeing people crudely grinding up against each other offbeat, to the music. There were people in the back who clearly looked dazed out of their mind with hooded eyes and all. Jaemin’s eyes travel further down the line and lands on his main goal for the night.

The usual pale skin has somehow shine even brighter with the sheen of sweat glistening under the club lights. With how he’s leaning against the railing, the darker parts of the room cast shadows on his figure, accentuating his sharp features from the bridge of his nose to the tip of his cupid's bow. The apples of his cheeks rose higher as he broke into a laugh, raven hair falling over his eyes and earring swaying back and forth against his neck. Huang Renjun was someone Jaemin could easily spot in a room full of people. 

Jaemin walks towards the bar with his eyes glued on Renjun’s slanted figure leaning against the railing, deep in conversation with someone else. His lips are a glossy pink that fades out towards the edge of his lips, glimmering under the lights as he moves them to sound each word. Jaemin doesn’t try looking away until the bartender calls out to him.

“Just a Bloody Mary, thanks.” He mumbles, surprised that the bartender himself had even heard him from the loud music making his own head throb. He wonders how long you’d have to spend time here to get used to that. 

It takes two drunk strangers flirting with him and a lot of rejection by the time the drink arrives in his hand, sour with a zing to it. His eyes occasionally fleet over to Renjun, seeing him still deep in conversation. 

Another stranger attempts to woo Jaemin with slurring their flirtatious words and hands trailing over his thighs, fingers pressing onto his wrist. They were usually the type he’d go for—innocent eyes, pink cheeks and pretty lips. He entertains them, but ultimately rejects when it starts to escalate and they leave with an annoyed huff. 

By then, Jaemin had finished a quarter of his drink and had even started questioning himself. Why had he come all the way here? Rejecting potential one night stands just to get under Huang Renjun’s skin? It was a fruitless attempt. He doesn’t even _know_ Jaemin was here in the first place. 

He sets his drink down and gets on his feet. Training was first thing in the morning anyway, and it had been way past midnight at this point. 

He’s in the middle of putting his jacket back on when he stops in place as Renjun trudges down the stairs, squeezing through the crowd to make it to the back exit. Jaemin sees the tuff of raven hair disappear amongst the crowd as he loses sight of him in the blink of an eye.

Dejun had always reprimanded him for meddling and it’s not like Jaemin enjoys doing it (he does). He’s just curious. Yeah, _curious._

He repeats that in the back of his mind as he slides through the sweaty bodies and slippery dance floor. The wind hits against his flushed cheeks as he reaches towards the exit and the door slides open. The back of the club leads toward the narrow alleyways that open on to the more secluded roads to the other districts. It’s almost surprising how quiet it was compared to the ruckus in the club. 

“ _Damn,_ you are just _obsessed_ with me huh?” A voice greets him from the right.

Renjun’s tone is dripping with mock and he knows it gets under Jaemin’s skin. Jaemin turns to him with a scowl. He is leaning against the brick wall beside the exit, a menacing smile adorning his lips. They curl deeper, deep enough to let his dimples dip as Jaemin greets him with a sour look.

“Get over yourself. I can go wherever the hell I want. You know not everything revolves around you?” Jaemin’s words are meant to spit venom but it only makes Renjun’s smile grow wider as he walks toward him. 

“No?” He challenges, and Jaemin doesn’t realize he’s been backing up until his back is hitting against the cold metal of the door. “‘Cuz if I’d known any better,” he cocks his head to the side. “I’d say you were following me.

His gaze is piercing but Jaemin doesn’t give in. If Renjun had wanted to see who was more hard-headed between both of them then Jaemin would show him how just stubborn he was to lose.

“Please,” he scoffs. “You think I’d give a damn about what you do in your free time? How desperate for my attention are you?”

Renjun laughs through his nose, leaning in close enough for Jaemin to see the glitter on his eyelids. “Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that? Considering how you were gawking at me the whole night. What, you think I didn’t notice?” 

Jaemin stiffens his back against the door. The alcohol must’ve started to sink in because at this point his brain scrambles for a comeback, but Renjun’s cologne is making his head spin. 

He leans in impossibly closer, a hand leaning against the door—right beside Jaemin’s head. His voice is only just above a whisper. “You know,” he starts. “If you wanted to sleep with me, you could’ve just asked nicely and we could skip all this back and forth.” He grins a Cheshire grin. 

“I don’t like you, but it would be a shame to have such a pretty face like that go to waste just because we have some…” he trails off and runs his eyes over Jaemin’s figure “... _’misunderstandings’_.” 

_What ‘misunderstandings’?_ Jaemin wants to spit back. He could barely stand being around Renjun for more than 5 minutes—spending a whole night with him would be nothing short of traumatizing. 

“I’ll pass.” He says mockingly and prides himself when it makes the ends of Renjun’s lips twitch. 

He recovers quickly, smiling still as blinding when he pushes himself off the wall. “Well, your loss.” 

He reaches for the earpiece in his pocket, stuffing it in his left ear. “But if you ever change your mind, you know where to find me. Or I guess you will.” his hand hovers over the button on the earpiece and a translucent helmet slowly starts to materialize around his head.

Jaemin must’ve blanked out trying to figure out what he had meant by that because by the time he had started walking back to his own bike, Renjun had been long gone. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


And as expected, Jaemin wakes up the next day with his head throbbing to the beat of Jisung’s incessant knocks on his door. 

_‘Training! Also Dejun wants to take a look at your bike before we leave. Don’t take too long.’_ He can hear Jisung’s yelling get more distant from outside the door as he drags his feet over the edge of the bed. He takes his time to screw his eyes shut in a frail attempt at getting rid of the stars dotting his vision. 

The sun bathes half of his room in pale orange and by the time Jaemin gets out the shower, wet hair dripping onto the wooden floorboards—it was fully bright out. 

He contemplates reaching for the team jacket he’d carelessly thrown over his desk the night before but it reeked of alcohol and Renjun’s cologne. He shudders. It was summer, he didn’t need that stupid leather jacket weighing him down anyways. 

“J, hurry up. You know how Dejun gets about punctuality.” Yukhei knocks on his door as he throws the jacket into a basket.

The kitchen is bustling when he enters with members sprawled across the sofa and some around the table. Jisung is sitting at the end with his team leather jacket hanging off his back—next to another member, Jungwoo, both with their eyes glued to their phones. From the corner of his eye, Jaemin sees Yukhei and Yangyang battling each other out for the TV remote, only to have Ten send a glare their way. He could feel a shudder running down his own spine at that.

He takes a seat next to Mark at the table. 

“Hey, you good? You look kinda sick.” Jaemin hears him say as he reaches for the omelettes next to the cereal box. Mark was already clad in his usual attire: a cobalt blue t-shirt tucked into his skinny ripped jeans to compliment his own Sapphire blue bike. 

“Yeah, just kinda dizzy, ‘S all.” 

“I thought you went to bed early though?”

Jaemin pauses and curses himself for being so careless. _Fuck,_ he thinks to himself. Lying to Mark was almost an impossible feat, he sees through everyone.

Fortunately, Dejun interrupts the conversation before he could even answer, asking for the keys to his Ducatti. “I’ll give them back to you in 5 minutes! I’m just doing a quick check-up.” 

“I’ll go with you.” Jaemin blurts out and scurries out of his seat. It was 7 in the morning and he didn't need a lecture from Mark about how he shouldn’t have been meddling with Huang Renjun of all people.

Mark doesn’t question it (and if he does, he doesn’t voice it out) as Jaemin excuses himself, tagging behind Dejun. He quickly regrets that as they make it down to the garage. Dejun’s head disappears under his bike to feel the engine before starting it up. 

He throws a side glance at Jaemin before hopping off the bike. “Did you get home late last night?” He asks.

“Um, no?” Jaemin doesn’t meet his eyes.

“Really?” Dejun runs a finger across the seat. “Because I didn’t need to heat up the engine and it was already kind of warm when I checked it.” Jaemin knows he’s caught red-handed with how Dejun was staring him down. He curses his brain for being too hungover and still a little too sleepy to come up with an excuse. 

“Okay, yeah I was up late. I was just celebrating by myself a little.” He lies through his teeth.

Dejun doesn’t say anything for a while and he looks as if he’s piecing the words together in his head before speaking up. He starts with a sigh. “I answered a call the other day…” He trails off. 

“From Dr Kim’s office.” Jaemin snaps his head up at this.

“They called the house line looking for you, but you were out so I said I’d take a message.” Dejun meets his gaze. “Jaemin… why didn’t you tell us you stopped going to the therapy sessions? _When_ did you stop? Because I remembered you said you were going out for an appointment just last week.” 

Jaemin remembers that day—or at least flashes of it. He had gotten wasted at a party with Jeno, a close friend from the Eagle’s group, alongside Donghyuck. And as for the therapy sessions, he stopped going to those weeks ago.

“Does anyone else know?... Does Mark know?” Jaemin hears his own voice waver.

“No. I didn’t tell him. I’m the only one who knows.” The door to the garage creaks open as the rest of the members start to file in, each one walking over to their respective bikes.

Dejun walks closer to him and speaks in a lower volume. “I’m not gonna force you to go, nor will I say any of this to Mark, he already has enough on his plate as it is, But,” he places a hand on Jaemin’s shoulder. 

“If you need to talk about it, my door is always open.” He gives him a pat before walking to his own bike. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


Training in the morning is never the same as actually racing in the night. The air is less thick and the sun beating down on you adds another element of difficulty with the struggle of trying to stay upright on the bike. Jaemin reminds himself to thank Kunhang for replacing his usual visor with something much more tinted. 

They travel in groups as they set up North towards the warehouse—a building stretched across the expanse of the green lot they had purchased to accommodate the growing team after winning the second Cup years ago. It was situated far from the heart of the city where the grass was greener and the air was fresh and nice.

The area was secluded but despite the long journey, more often than not, Jaemin would find himself immersed in riding along the built-in tracks surrounded by the densely packed trees. 

The inside was even more breathtaking. Whilst the outside of the warehouse was surrounded with built-in tracks stretching across every square foot of the lot, the inside held prototype gadgets and stylized bikes of every colour and size. 

“Yukhei, you’re racing next week. I want you on the simulator. The rest of you can practice on the track.” Mark orders as the doors pivot open. 

The next few hours were filled with sweat beading down the side of his forehead as Jaemin skids past the mark, his tire screeching against the gravel on the track as it comes to a stop. He pulls his helmet off to glance at Jisung standing by the sidewalk.

“How’d I do?”

Jisung wears a serious expression before breaking into a sly grin. “3 seconds later than me. Looks like you’re buying me dinner.”

“Fuck.” Jaemin grunts. He flinches when Ten’s hand playfully slaps the back of his head. “No cursing.” He scolds, making Jaemin’s lip jut out, muttering an apology as Jisung lets out a hearty laugh.

“A bet is a bet, Jaem.” Jaemin sends him a scowl as he walks towards the warehouse.

  
  
  
  
  


He doesn’t quite understand how it went from just paying for Jisung’s dinner to paying for the whole team’s dinner instead. But being the youngest in the group, he knows Jisung has his own tricks up his sleeve—most of them include a lot of persuasion and puppy dog eyes that would make any member’s knees wobbly with adoration.

They wrap up at the warehouse and set for the city once again after arguing on a place to eat, finally settling on the new diner that opened up in the Amethyst district. Jaemin seldom visits this district compared to the others but he vaguely remembers Donghyuck telling him that it has one of the best workshops in the city, he snickered when Dejun rolled his eyes at that. 

The sun casts a gorgeous fuchsia tint over the buildings as it sets over the horizons, and by the time they make it to the diner, the district is bright with neon lights and bustling with people filling the streets. 

The smell of freshly cooked patties makes his mouth water as Jaemin pushes past the door, the bell attached above it greeting him with a jingle. The team sprawls across the line of booths like moths to a flame. Jaemin squeezes next to Jisung in Mark’s booth, Yangyang sitting next to him.

A woman with a kind smile greets them a minute later, carrying a tray of milkshakes in each hand and setting them on the booths.

“On the house from the owner. All of us here are big fans of the team!” she breaks into a wide grin, the wrinkles around her cheeks stretching further.

Mark offers her a warm smile of his own. “That’s great! I hope you’ll be cheering for us for The Quarters!” 

“Of course. My son loves you guys. He loves racing and wants to be a part of The Coven someday.” She smiles innocently and it leaves a weird feeling in Jaemin’s chest. Racing had been his whole life. You don’t just get in by dumb luck, like Huang Renjun. But Renjun is an unspoken glitch in the system, one Jaemin is dead set on fixing. 

“Well, that is if he gets in. But I guess it’s always good to dream big.” he cuts in and Mark kicks his shin from under the table, making him wince as the lady’s smile drops.

Mark attempts apologizing on his behalf but the woman laughs it off, quickly waving her hand and excuses herself, walking back to her station. 

He feels Mark’s glare on him, seeping into his bones and chooses to stare at his own reflection through the diner’s window overlooking the street. The tension in the booth is thick as Jisung clears his throat and mindlessly starts talking about next week’s race. Jaemin nods along, half listening. 

The door jingles when a new customer walks in, greeted by the previous waitress with a smile. It catches Jaemin’s attention as he lazily shifts his gaze to the entrance, locking eyes with a familiar pair of brown irises. He instantly straightens his back and stiffens as Renjun looks around the diner and starts walking towards their booth with a devilish smile. 

“Covens.” He greets and Jaemin suppresses a scowl threatening to surface on his lips. Talk of the devil.

Mark welcomes him with a smile. “Renjun! Good to see you. I didn’t get a chance to congratulate you on last night’s race. You did amazing.”

Jaemin sees something close to a blush dusting off Renjun’s cheeks and he holds back the urge to roll his eyes. “Oh no, that’s alright. Thank you though.” Mark reaches an arm out and Renjun gladly accepts his handshake. It never fails to surprise Jaemin how easily Renjun’s demeanour would change when it was just the two of them, he had everyone wrapped around his finger. It would’ve even been impressive—if Jaemin didn’t hate his guts. 

“What do you want?” Jaemin blatantly asks, not caring for Mark’s disapproving gaze on his tone. 

Renjun doesn’t seem taken aback by it and he doesn’t expect him to be because they’ve played this game too often. Yangyang and Jisung are left to watch the scene unfold before them. 

“Actually, I’m here to talk to Mark,” Renjun says, eyes shifting over to Mark’s face and Jaemin feels the sweat forming around his lower back. If Mark were to find out about his little run-in with Renjun last night, Jaemin would never hear the end of it. 

“Oh?” Mark raises his eyebrows, full attention now on Renjun as he spares a quick glance at Jaemin. “Um, what can I help you with?”

“Actually I think it’s best if we did it behind closed doors. It’s a little serious.” Renjun’s eyes meet Jaemin’s, satisfied at the frown being sent his way. 

“I was hoping I could schedule a meeting with you? To talk properly about it. I don’t want to crash your dinner or anything.” The rest of the other members had started peering over their own booths, curious eyes watching Renjun. 

Mark looks taken aback but quickly regains his composure. “Yeah, okay. I’ll uh…” he grabs a napkin, scribbling their penthouse’s address on it with a black pen that bleeds past the sheets. 

“Just come by anytime in the morning tomorrow. One of us will ring you up and we can talk.”

Renjun pockets the napkin, bidding his goodbyes to the members as he grabs his takeout and heads for the door. Jaemin could swear that his gaze had lingered longer on him and it made his stomach churn, curious what Renjun was up to now. 

When the food is served, hot and juicy, he feels sick to his stomach.

  
  
  
  
  
  


He counts his fingers, eyes barely able to stay open with the thick smoke suffocating his lungs. It's too hot. His back feels as if it’s on fire and his skin is drenched in sweat. No matter how much he moves he finds himself glued to the floor, cold linoleum tiles against his feet rivaling with the prickling heat on his back. There's a shadow that looms in the corner, one tall and dark that sends a shiver down his spine. Jaemin breathes in a jagged breath and tastes the smoke on his tongue. He doesn’t know what’s happening. Only registers the clear scream in his head to get out.

He’s thrown into a gasping mess as the doorbell to the penthouse bounces off the walls, awakening him with a jolt. The tiles underneath him are now replaced with the softness of his satin sheets, tangled between his legs. His bare chest shivers. 

The morning dew fogging up his window tells him it's early in the morning and the low grunt escaping the lips of someone beside him, under his covers, tells Jaemin he’s probably had one too many drinks last night. 

The bell rings again by the time Jaemin reaches for his phone, scrolling past the texts Jeno and Donghyuck had sent the night prior - a flurry of drunk videos and questions on where he had wandered off to. No matter how many times Jaemin had promised himself to never go clubbing with the pair ever again, they always found a way to rope him in.

He pulls a shirt over his head and slides into his sticky jeans, cringing when a foggy memory of him spilling his cocktail all over his thighs pop into his head.

He grunts when a third ring echoes around the house, pushing past his door to strut down the silent hallway. He mumbles a _‘yeah, yeah. coming’_ before realizing they wouldn't have heard him either way. The penthouse is eerily quiet until he hears Mark yell _‘Jaemin, can you get that? I’m busy.’_ all the way from upstairs. 

“Who is it?” he pushes the button to the buzzer. There’s a beat of silence on the other side before the monitor switches on, revealing a boy with dark raven hair, standing a little too close to the camera. 

“It’s Renjun. Huang Renjun. I’m here to see Mark?”

Jaemin instantly feels more awake than he did 5 seconds ago, eyes widening as if they would pop out of his sockets any time. He glances at his appearance in the mirror across the room. _Shit, right now?_

“Who rang?” Mark yells from upstairs. 

“Huang Renjun,” Jaemin responds lazily, distaste clear in his tone. “Great, ring him up. I’m in the office.” 

Hesitantly, Jaemin presses the button and the buzzer goes off again. It takes a minute before the elevator door dings and Jaemin stands before it, not caring that he was wearing his shirt inside out or that his hair resembled that of a bird’s nest. 

A snort greets him as soon as the doors slide open. “You look like shit.” is the first thing Renjun says as he bites his lips in a failed attempt to maintain his composure.

Jaemin scowls back. “This is my house, don’t make me kick you out. What the _hell_ are you doing here?”

“I’m here to meet Mark. Like I said.” 

The bright neon top Renjun has on is far too bright for Jaemin’s puffy eyes to endure so he squints a little and focuses his attention back on his face. “Yeah, I know that. What are you here to talk to him ‘bout?” Jaemin grumbles.

“Well, that’s none of your business,” Renjun’s eyes scan over the living room before offering Jaemin a sly smile. “ _...yet._ Where is he?”

Jaemin prepares a snarky remark in his head but Mark beats him to it, head popping out from the balcony. 

“Hey, sorry to keep you waiting. Come on up.”

Renjun instantly stands a little taller and offers Mark a smile - it’s fake, Jaemin sees right through it. It's the smile Renjun flashes in front of the cameras and the crowd like a little show pony. Jaemin laughs at the thought in his head.

Renjun clears his throat and makes his way up the stairs before stopping midway. “By the way,” he bites his lips again and looks as if he was a breath away from exploding into a laugh, “there's piss all over your pants” 

Jaemin sends him a quizzical look before glancing at his pants, groaning. “It’s not piss, it’s…” he raises his voice but trails off when Renjun reaches the top of the stairs, not paying him any mind, 

“...my cocktail.”

  
  
  
  


In the half-hour Renjun had spent in Mark’s office, Jaemin managed to take a shower, politely kick out his one-night stand (not without giving them his fake phone number) and pace around the living room. He glances up the stairs and swallows the lump in his throat.

Renjun wouldn’t be petty enough to bring up something as trivial as that night at the club… would he? 

_‘No’_ Jaemin tells himself. Then again, he wouldn't put it past him—Jaemin doesn’t know him well enough to say, but he knows Renjun absolutely thrives on getting under his skin. 

He wipes the sweat off his palms.

“I’ll be seeing you very soon then.” Mark’s voice booms from the top of the stairs and Jaemin almost pulls a muscle, snapping his head back. Renjun appears behind him with a look that sends shivers down Jaemin’s spine, a subtle glint of cockiness.

He hears them speak in hushed tones as they descend down the stairs, a mumble of the words _‘deal’_ and _‘work’_ thrown around. Jaemin clears his throat, gaining both their attention. 

There's a pause before Renjun talks, gaze slipping back and forth between Jaemin and Mark. “Well, I should be going but I’m glad we got to talk.” He glances at Jaemin and sends him a curt nod. “I’ll show myself out.”

It's clear that Mark is avoiding his gaze as soon as Renjun steps in the elevator, but Jaemin raises his eyebrows and sends him a questioning look nonetheless. He picks at the thread on his sleeve. 

“So, what did you guys talk about?”

Mark makes it a point to avoid eye contact as much as possible until the silence that hangs in the air becomes a little nauseating. He clears his throat. 

“Work.” 

“Just work? Like what?” Jaemin presses further and watches as Mark visibly shrinks under his stare. He doesn’t often see him like this— _hesitant_ , despite knowing him for years now. Mark is calculated but confident, never hesitant. 

He starts walking towards the kitchen and Jaemin tails behind him, refusing to drop the conversation. 

“Well,” He pulls a teabag out the cabinet. “He did ask about something else. _Offered,_ really.”

Jaemin pulls a half-eaten bun out the fridge, giving it a whiff before biting into it. The taste of his minty breath mixes with the sweet custard filling. He winces. 

“Yeah? What?”

A spoon clatters against clay the mug on the kitchen counter as Mark turns to him, deadpanning. “He asked to join the Coven.” 

Blood feels like liquid ice in Jaemin’s veins, but he pauses, allowing Mark to continue.

He clears his throat, steam wafting from his cup. “He said he’d drop out of the race as a solo if he could come race for us.” 

“Oh,” Jaemin takes another bite of his bun. 

“Must’ve been awkward to turn him down then.” There's tension in the air and he could clearly see Mark physically tense up, once again refusing to meet his gaze.

“Well, I actually said yes.” 

There’s a gutted feeling that greets his chest and Jaemin can’t decide whether it’s anger, disappointment or _both._

 _“Fuck,_ Mark. What the hell were you thinking?”

Mark sighs and Jaemin thinks he sounds more exasperated than anything as if he was preparing for this. 

“I was thinking about the team.” he rubs his temples. “I’m not blind Jaemin, I know you hate him. But as much as you don't want to admit it, he’s a good racer. One of our top competitors even. Him joining us just means we get a bigger chance at taking the Cup home.” 

Jaemin stays fuming, ears turning a shade of red. “We can win just fine without him. _I_ can win just fine without him.”

“I’m not second-guessing your skills if that's what you’re thinking. But we lost last year. And the year before that. We can’t afford to lose this time, we need the funds to keep this place running Jaemin. You’ve been slacking, and maybe a little competition will do you some good. He won one of the seasons and so did we. If he drops out, that season automatically goes to us, we’re practically one step away from winning the cup.” Mark sighs.

“This is just a good opportunity and as a leader, I need to do what's best for the team. You know that.” 

“But this isn’t _just_ a team, Mark. _You_ know that. He isn’t one of us.” Jaemin retorts.

“Neither were you. Or Jisung. But he’ll learn to be just like the rest of us.” 

Mark sighs like it’s the only thing he knows how to do and places his mug down. He tries his best to look Jaemin in the eye. “You don’t have to like him. But you know I’m right about this. Give it a chance.” 

He walks off and Jaemin is left with the sounds of the city starting to wake, greeting him a good morning. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Renjun’s eyes are piercing. A warm shade of golden brown but Jaemin feels anything but warm. They feel akin to a predator observing its prey. To Jaemin, Renjun was a hunter. Cunning, sly and deceiving. 

He puts on a show when he moves into the penthouse, kind words and big bright smiles. And every one welcomes him with open arms, _understandably,_ except Jaemin. Renjun looks at him as if he was fresh meat and he knows it's just to get under his skin. And it does. 

Jaemin stands at the end of the living room when Renjun comes stumbling in with nothing but a suitcase. _Odd._ No big brown boxes filled with memories, no picture frames soon to be hung up on his new bedroom walls— _nothing._ No one else questions it as the members bombard Renjun with greetings. 

He barely has enough breath to answer all of them, nodding and offering the most genuine smile Jaemin has ever seen him flash. 

He gets chills running down his neck when he feels a stare on him. He meets Mark’s gaze across the room, inviting and warm, signalling his eyes towards Renjun and raising his eyebrows at Jaemin. All he is able to give him, for now, is a silent grunt. He knows what Mark is trying to imply but he still refuses to move, showing his clear disapproval.

“It’s good to have you join us! We’re always excited to welcome new members.” Yangyang exclaims excitedly, hand reaching out to shake Renjun’s.

Renjun smiles, wrapping Yangyang’s hand in his and placing a kiss on his knuckles. 

“Pleasure’s all mine.” He flashes a grin so sly and wide that it rivals that of a snake. It makes Yangyang flush a deep red from the tip of his ears to his cheeks. 

Jaemin rolls his eyes at this and pushes himself off the wall, interrupting. In some twisted way, he thinks this was exactly Renjun’s plan. To make him itch with so much annoyance. He finds his feet gravitating towards him. 

“And being a member means there are rules.” He stops right in front of Renjun, staring at him with challenging eyes. “The first rule is,” he trails off, reaching for Renjun’s hand wrapped around Yangyangs, prying it off. “No dating between members.”

“Oi,” it's Yangyang that scoffs behind him, lightly hitting Jaemin’s shoulder. “Don’t be so mean to the newcomer. At least wait a couple of days asshole.” 

In the corner, Yukhei and Jisung snicker at the scene unfolding before them. 

Jaemin holds the stare before letting out a chuckle, loud and dismissive. 

“Oh come on,” he turns around to face the other members. “Renjun knows I was joking. Right?” he raises an eyebrow in Renjun’s direction, taking pride at how he stills when being put on the spot. 

“Right,” Renjun responds, a little too stiffly.

Mark cuts in, smiling with all teeth and high cheekbones. “Well, we can go over the rules after you’ve settled in.” he turns to Jisung. “Would you mind showing Renjun to his room?”

They all bid their temporary goodbyes and pat Renjun in the back, promising smiles etched on their faces as he tails behind Jisung down the hall. 

Jaemin clicks his tongue and turns around. There was no way he’d be able to make it through the whole day without a smoke on the roof. He squeezes a hand over the right pocket of his jeans, feeling the outline of his lighter. He flinches when a hand envelopes his shoulder, Mark’s eyes disappointingly glowering at him. 

“Turn it down another 50 notches, Viper. Remember,” a tongue darting out to wet his lips. “We _want_ him here. Not to chase him away.”

Jaemin scoffs, rolling his shoulder to slide Mark’s grip off of it. “ _You_ want him here. I had no say in it.” He sighs. 

“I told you I’d act civil. But don't try to make me like him.”

Jaemin storms off, ignoring Dejun’s scrutinizing gaze as he passes. 

  
  
  
  
  


There’s an old saying Jaemin often hears that floats around from time to time. 

_Keep your friends close and your enemies closer._

But now that he breaks it down, he thinks it makes absolutely no sense. He’s no lit genius, but he does know what it feels like to have your enemies close. It doesn’t feel like he’s winning at all. It feels a lot like drowning instead. 

Renjun has been in The Coven for a solid 3 days and he’s managed to have everyone swoon over him, wrapped around his finger. Except for Jaemin, but he doubts Renjun would expect him to warm up to him any minute. In fact, Renjun would probably be more surprised if he did. 

Dejun, much to Jaemin’s approval, is also a little sceptical, though he tries his hardest not to show it. But to be fair, Dejun is sceptical of every new member at first. It’s only a matter of time before Renjun manages to worm his way into his soft spot. 

It’s their off day today and it’s also summer, which means popsicles on the roof and hot dogs being flipped while the members argue over which type of motorsport is best. It’s tradition and it’s home to Jaemin. Every summer he would welcome the warm feeling into his chest, but this summer is different from the rest. This summer, the warm feeling has dissipated into the hot air and replaced with something ugly in his chest as he’s forced to watch Renjun laugh along with _his_ members. Watch him argue about motorsports like _he_ used to.

He doesn’t know what Renjun is planning or who he actually is, but it seems like he’s the only one willing to find out. 

Jaemin trades the melting popsicle in his cup for a ride around the city to clear his head. No one seems to notice his leave except the pair of fox-like eyes from afar.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Renjun steps out of the bathroom fully dressed with wet hair dripping onto his satin pyjamas. The steam fogs up the nearest mirror and the cold concrete lay flat under his heel as he ushers himself towards the bed. The room feels too big and the bed is too comfortable for his taste. It’s cold, unlived in. The big windows beside the bed go as high as the ceiling and Renjun feels almost exposed to how the moon peeks through the glass, shining down on the neon lights of the city. He feels mocked. 

With a grunt, Renjun pushes himself off the bed, a wet patch formed on his sheets due to his hair. His suitcase lays open, clothes spewing out from it but Renjun reaches for something deeper, a crumpled piece of paper buried under the pile.

It fits in the palm of his hand and he runs a finger over it. He sees his own face though unrecognizable. Full cheeks and doe eyes. They hold so much admiration and innocence, Renjun feels almost envious of his past self. He circles his finger along the face of another figure in the picture and feels his own heart yearn for the familiar touch. The feeling of the warm skin under his fingertips, the melodious laugh filling his ears—Renjun would do anything just to get a glimpse of it again.

He straightens his back when a harsh knock echoes in his room. He buries the photo back into the suitcase. 

Renjun is met with a figure looming in the hallway, a hood over their head and a robe that drapes across the polished floors. He raises an eyebrow at them as they lift their hood up. 

Kind brown eyes that glint mischief stares back at him. He recognizes them as one of the members from earlier and if Renjun tries hard enough he might even be able to remember their name. He doesn’t.

Instead, he stretches his lips wide in a faux smile. “Can I help you?” 

“You’re requested by the team for a group gathering. To start your initiation.” Ten says. 

Renjun splutters. “My, _what?”_

He isn't given an explanation as he starts walking down the hallway, a hand motioning at Renjun to follow him. And so he does, toes now cold as they press against the marble tiles. 

The lights get dimmer down the hallway as they step into the living room, now completely pitch black, save for the candles sprawled across a few tables and edges. Renjun eyes the figures gathered in robes, ones identical to Ten’s as he joins them. He barely recognizes Mark standing at the front of the group, a candle illuminating his face and deepening the shadows along his cheekbones. A switch flips in Renjun, defensive and attentive as he balls his fists to his sides.

“What’s going on?”

“Your initiation.” Mark simply replies as if it was obvious. It somehow makes everything eerier.

“Which is, what exactly?”

Another figure appears from the back, both hands wrapped around what looks like a goblet. It's a racer Renjun is actually able to identify. Yukhei gently hands the goblet to Mark. 

“A drink to seal the deal. Now you're one of us.

If Renjun was surprised, he doesn't show it. He keeps his face straight because he knows amongst the red velvet robes and hoods, is Jaemin, silently watching his every move. Renjun has played this game for far too long to break character now. 

With a deep breath in, he’s managed to etch that faux smile onto his lips once again. 

“Then it would be my pleasure.”

His nimble fingers reach out to wrap around the goblet but Mark pulls back as soon as he tries. 

“One more thing.” he hands him a beautiful blade, sharp and glinting under the burning flames. “It wouldn't be an initiation to bond us if there weren’t any special needs. We are a Coven after all.”

Renjun eyes the blade suspiciously. 

“You’re gonna need a drop of your blood in the drink. It's what ties us all together.” He says nonchalantly.

Before he could even think about it, Renjun wraps his hand around the blunt end of the blade's leather grip and smooth finish. He hovers the blade over his finger, eyeing where it might puncture and bites his tongue. He committed to this, he might as well go all the way.

As the blade scrapes his skin, Renjun hears a maniacal laugh from across the room and little snickers that start to gather around. His eyes fall on Jaemin, laughing so hard that tears are starting to pool in his eyes. 

_“God,”_ he breathes out. “Were you really going to do that?”

Renjun blinks at him, eyebrows knitted before turning his attention to Mark who only smiles sheepishly. 

“Sorry.” is all he manages to say as the lights flash back on, causing Renjun to squint. 

Yukhei cuts in, face red as if he had been containing a laugh. “It’s a tradition we have. To scare the newcomers. It’s been around for a while, don't worry yours is probably the least embarrassing.”

Yangyang swings an arm across Yukhei’s shoulders. “Yeah! You should’ve seen Jisung. He cried.” A grumble is heard from the side and a faint _‘I didn’t!’_ follows. Laughs erupt all around the room.

As the members start to sprawl out, a leather jacket is shoved into his hands, the team jacket almost identical to the rest. Everyone had something unique about theirs, a reminder that although they were one—they served their own purpose to the team. Renjun stares down at his and runs a hand over the embroidered fox at the back, sewn to perfection and not a thread out of place. 

Mark answers him before he could even question it out loud. “Dejun thought of it. He thinks you symbolize the fox in a way. Smart.” 

“So we're hoping you’ll be able to live up to that.”

Renjun stares at the jacket and back at him. He thinks it's ironic, genius even. “It’s perfect.”

“Great.” Mark smiles. “We hope you’ll fit in perfectly with the rest of us...” 

This time, Dejun cuts in. His eyes are always hooded and scrutinizing like he’s taking Renjun’s personality apart behind them. He doesn’t shrink easily but the gaze makes him feel bare and naked at times. “And Jaemin is right, we do have rules. And as a member, we expect you to follow them. We’re mostly lenient on the rest, but there is one, really important rule you’re never allowed to break.”

“Never turn your back against the team.” Jaemin finishes for him, and although he points no fingers, it sounds more accusing than anything.

“Of course,” Renjun says, by instinct. 

He looks away when Jaemin walks by him, his own jacket loosely hanging off his shoulders. He halts beside Renjun, gripping at his shoulder hard enough to bruise. “You may have everyone else fooled, but not me. I’m watching you.”

His voice is just above a whisper when he speaks down to him. “Because at the end of the day, the fox is more cunning than smart, but it’s the snake that carries the poison.”

The message is loud and clear. That the games they had played before were over long ago. That when Renjun stepped foot into The Coven and claimed himself as a member, he started something new. No, this? This was war.

“Welcome to The Coven." He whispers.

**Author's Note:**

> thoughts !!!!
> 
> [cc](https://curiouscat.me/813na)  
> [twt](https://mobile.twitter.com/rensfilms)


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